


walking in your landscape

by foreverautumn



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Conversations, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Feelings, M/M, Season/Series 01, falling in love in the fall, friendship without the seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27086416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverautumn/pseuds/foreverautumn
Summary: “This is a place of comfort for you.” Hannibal sounds more like he’s talking to himself, rather than Will, but he still feels compelled to answer.“I’d hope so. It’s my home, after all.”Hannibal smiles, that barely there sort of smile that just about touches the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he says. He continues gazing into the fire. “I’ve never seen you in it.”(Hannibal is interested in observing Will in the comforts of his own home; Will considers the possibility of enjoying someone’s company without expectation.)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 48
Kudos: 265





	1. when i

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely inspired by hannictober day 17 - candles, and exists in a version of season one where Hannibal attempts friendship in a way that doesn’t involve Will’s brain boiling over as a key component

Will’s not really expecting the knock on the door. He’s just finished getting the dog beds properly situated in front of the fireplace, the only source of warmth now that the power’s gone out, and seven heads pop up in interest at the sound. Eight, if he counts himself.

After patting the two heads closest to him, Will rises up and stretches, running his hands over his legs as he makes his way over to the door. There hasn’t been another knock, despite the delay in an answer.

That means it probably isn’t Jack Crawford, which Will is silently thankful for. But he hadn’t quite been ready for the sight of Hannibal Lecter on his doorstep, either.

“Will,” he greets simply, as though this is a common occurrence. It’s already getting dark in earnest, now, and Will can’t help but wonder what on earth Hannibal is doing here.

“Doctor Lecter,” he replies in return, taking a step back. “What can I do for you?”

Hannibal takes the silent invitation and steps inside. “My apologies, Will. I didn’t intend to impose, but I found myself somewhat in the area and thought I would be remiss if I didn’t stop by.”

Will eyes him carefully. “In the area, huh?”

Hannibal angles his body away from Will just as carefully, stepping further into Will’s home. All he gets in reply is a nod, and he watches the other man make his way toward the fireplace. The hands buried in his pockets emerge, stretched out slightly as offerings to the curious noses eager to greet Will’s unexpected guest.

He’s never actually seen Hannibal interact with his dogs before, though he’d agreed to check in on them when Will had been out of town. It touches something both tense and tender in the center of his chest, something that coaxes Will to take a closer look at it, but he closes his eyes instead. Stares at the black of his eyelids for a moment, before striding purposefully away, leaving Hannibal to his own devices while he unearths a few candles and a matchbook from his closet.

“I see you’re well prepared,” Hannibal comments idly.

Will’s lips twitch in an almost-smile as he places the mismatched candles throughout the surrounding rooms. Two in the kitchen, since he hasn’t eaten anything yet and will probably be making an attempt at dinner once Hannibal is on his way, just one in the living room, as the fireplace provides plenty of light and warmth for now, and two more in his bedroom area. He tries not to feel self-conscious about it with Hannibal’s eyes boring into the back of his head.

“It’ll have to do for now,” Will finally answers, making his way back to the living room. He stands a few paces from Hannibal, still in his coat, surrounded by Will’s dogs. Inexplicably, he looks quite content to be here. Will’s not sure how to handle this realization.

“This is a place of comfort for you.” Hannibal sounds more like he’s talking to himself, rather than Will, but he still feels compelled to answer.

“I’d hope so. It’s my home, after all.”

Hannibal smiles, that barely there sort of smile that just about touches the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he says. He continues gazing into the fire. “I’ve never seen you in it.”

That brings Will up short. He supposes it is strange, that the only time Hannibal’s been in his house had been when Will had been away. Maybe it had been strange of him to ask Hannibal in the first place for that kind of favor, but it had seemed to make sense at the time.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Well, I haven’t seen you here before, either.”

That gets Hannibal’s gaze on him. He redirects his own to the fire, instead.

“You’re right.”

It’s quiet, after that. Just the crackle of the fireplace, a deep sigh from one of the dogs. Will doesn’t really mind Hannibal being here, but he'd like to understand just why he is.

“What’s actually brought you here tonight, Doctor?”

It’s a long drive to Wolf Trap. A long drive from here, to Baltimore. It’s more often Will making the trek, which he’s never put much thought into, before. It suddenly feels a little more momentous to be standing beside Hannibal, here in the humble little home he’s made for himself.

Hannibal shifts minutely. “I must confess, Will, I don’t have a clear cut answer for my actions this evening. I simply had the desire for your company, and found myself acting on that desire.” 

The silence feels heavier, thick like molasses. Will’s pulse thrums in his throat, and he doesn’t quite know why. 

“I apologize for arriving unannounced,” Hannibal continues, turning back to Will. He observes him for a moment before adding, “I can be on my way now, if you’d like.” Will’s gaze darts from the man’s shoulder to his eyes, which soften just the smallest amount. “I won’t be offended.”

Will lets himself imagine it. Hannibal wishing him a swift goodnight, sweeping out through the door and driving away into the inky blackness. Will standing on the porch watching him go.

“You must have something better to do than staying here during a blackout.” It’s not a request for him to leave. A feeble deflection, if it can even be called that. He hates that Hannibal no doubt knows it, while also savoring that Hannibal knows him well enough to understand.

“I find myself quite at ease,” Hannibal replies, expression warm. It’s not as exaggerated as some of the expressions he uses around other people. Will likes to think that means it’s honest.

“Well, then.” Will gestures with his hand, some facsimile of, _make yourself at home_. It seems absurd. Hannibal Lecter, in his expensive coat, suit, and shoes, making himself comfortable in Will’s living room.

“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal removes his coat, and Will find himself reaching out a hand to take it. Hannibal pauses a moment before handing it over.

Will walks over to hang it as carefully as he can over the back of a kitchen chair. He usually throws his own over the couch, his bed, or shoves it in the closet with his clothes. The kitchen chair seems safest.

He returns to the living room to find Hannibal settled in on the couch, one leg crossed over the other. His eyes are closed, both hands on his knee. Will stares.

Two impressive dog sneezes interrupt his reverie. Will huffs a laugh, shifting a little awkwardly. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Only if you’re partaking as well.” Hannibal’s eyes are still closed. Will wonders what he’s thinking.

“Sure,” Will says absentmindedly, wandering away to pour two glasses of whiskey. _I simply had the desire for your company._ What is Will supposed to make of that?

A few minutes later, they are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, each with a glass in hand. It feels more than a little surreal.

Will’s tempted to keep pressing. There has to be more of a reason than what Hannibal had offered for his presence here. He hadn’t just wanted to see Will.

He thinks about Hannibal’s seemingly random observation - _this is a place of comfort for you_. Perhaps it had been something he’d been curious about? It seems unfathomable that Hannibal would spend time considering how Will acts and moves within his own home. Baffling that he would be so driven by his musings that he would show up unannounced, eager to elicit a natural response in Will.

And yet.

“So is it everything you expected?” Hannibal glances over, face blank. Will chuckles and looks down into his drink. “Me. This.” He takes a sip, closing his eyes briefly. “Observing me in my natural habitat.” It comes out a little more bitter than he’d meant it to.

“I had no expectations, Will.” He can see Hannibal taking a sip of his own drink from the corner of his eye. Will sighs.

Doctor, or friend? The lines seem to only blur further, between the two of them. Is it the doctor curious about his patient, or the man eager to learn more about his friend, that had shown up here, tonight? Will knows what he wants the answer to be, which only makes him hate having to ask the question all the more.

Hannibal shifts, turning his body toward Will. “I mean it, Will. I’m here for the pleasure of your company, in whichever manner you wish to share it with me.”

Will closes his eyes, tapping his fingers against his glass. Whichever manner. An impromptu therapy session, or a quiet evening with a friend.

Will thinks of the choices he’d already made. _Make yourself at home. Can I get you a drink?_ Why does he feel like he’s somehow exposed himself, simply by offering the normal niceties anyone would, upon receiving a guest in their home?

“I’m not up for any attempts at therapy tonight, Doctor,” he says finally. He downs the rest of his drink.

“I didn’t think you would be,” Hannibal replies easily. A quick glance shows an air of contentment as he settles back against the cushions again. So it had been the man, and not the doctor, who had sought out Will tonight.

Will hides his smile in the rim of his empty glass. He’s never had an easy time with any kind of relationship. He supposes it only makes sense that Hannibal Lecter would prove the most challenging of all.

“I’ll get us another,” he says, reaching for Hannibal’s glass.

“Allow me,” Hannibal replies, standing and taking Will’s instead. It’s darker in the kitchen, the flames from the two candles flickering as Hannibal moves through the space. He watches Hannibal pour their next drink, head tilted to the side, cheek pressed against the cushions. Will wonders if the weight of his gaze feels as heavy as Hannibal’s does on himself.

“Thanks,” Will murmurs once Hannibal returns. He accepts the glass, but leaves his head where it is. Hannibal turns to look back at him after he sits down.

“What’s on your mind?” The question is asked with that light sort of curiosity Hannibal usually directs toward Will. Sometimes, he’s unable to hide it; sometimes it is something murky, a shadow hidden in plain sight, that drips from his voice and his eyes with such a deep hunger to _know_ that it never fails to catch Will off guard.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he returns just as lightly. He bites back the _Doctor_ at the end of his sentence, swallows it down with a mouthful of whiskey. The way Hannibal smiles makes Will think he had heard the absence loud and clear.

“Always, Will.” He’s still smiling. The firelight dances over his skin, softening his face. Hiding half of it in shadow. Will has the strange thought that if he were to stretch his hand out across the cushion, Hannibal would meet him in the middle.

“Maybe I’d rather we talk about what you’re thinking, instead.”

Hannibal dips his head graciously. “You are my humble host, after all.” Will rolls his eyes, but feels warm. From the fire, the whiskey. Nothing other than that. “I suppose I find myself wondering why we haven’t done this before.”

Will swallows. “This?”

He wants to move, to sit up properly. But it also feels like doing so would be an admission of some kind, one that Hannibal would easily be able to read. Proof that Hannibal’s words had moved him. They often do.

“Yes. I consider you a friend, though I understand that to anyone else this would all appear rather unorthodox.” _This_ , again. This. What exactly is the _this_ that Hannibal is referring to? His showing up unannounced, but certain of his welcome? The sharing of a drink after a long day? Their quiet conversation?

“I don’t do friendship very well,” he says. He does sit up now, rubs at one side of his face before taking another drink.

“You may think so, but these days I find myself desiring your company above all others.”

Will can’t look at him. He stares into the fire until his eyes hurt.

“My apologies if I overstepped, Will.” It’s spoken earnestly, but unnecessarily. Hannibal always pushes and prods, fascinated by whatever reactions he can pull out of Will. He had known exactly what would happen when he’d chosen to say those words to Will. There’s no regret. Hannibal rarely regrets anything. Will isn’t sure if he knows how.

“I don’t mind your company, either,” Will manages. It feels like another admission. An unbearable one. Will grits his teeth and stares down into his glass.

Hannibal doesn’t answer, but Will can envision the look on his face. That hungry sort of curiosity, the one that seeks to poke further, to unravel each and every hidden facet of what makes Will tick. The one that, if Will lets himself believe it, seeks to be known and understood in return.

One of the dogs barks in their sleep. Will cracks a small smile as his gaze lands on Buster, kicking his leg and letting out another quiet woof.

“It’s alright,” he soothes on reflex. Will leans forward, elbows over his knees. Buster’s head snaps up and he looks around dazedly until fixing on Will. “Shh, go back to sleep, buddy.” Buster’s tail thumps once, before he slumps over to drift back off into whatever it is dogs dream about. Will imagines it must feature a lot of running.

He sighs and leans back into the cushions again. When he turns to the side, he finds Hannibal still watching him. “What is it?” he asks.

“It is good to see you at ease.” Will’s face must do something in response, for Hannibal raises a hand. “Please, don’t concern yourself. It’s simply an observation. Our conversations often linger over topics that don’t allow a chance to see you in such a way.” 

Will’s brow furrows, lips thinning. 

Hannibal chuckles. “It appears I’m only making things worse, the longer I speak.” He takes a sip from his glass and leans back, no longer turned towards Will. “Let us simply enjoy this evening for what it is.”

“And what would that be?” Will finds himself asking, before he can think better of it. What does he expect in reply?

Hannibal doesn’t answer. It doesn’t bother Will very much, somehow. He thinks they are both in the same place, right now. New ground; a road not tread before.

“An opportunity,” Hannibal says eventually, some time later.

Will smiles. That’s not a bad word for it.

He lets his hand drift to the cushion beside him. Perhaps he’ll find out if Hannibal is willing to meet him in the middle, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I’m writing for Hannibal and okay I know it’s too soft, but I’ve been rewatching season one and have been struck anew by how I want to throttle Hannibal and so I’ve used this opportunity to soothe my own soul. I might add to this with a few chapters from other prompts, but I’m not sure yet(?!)
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read, it is much appreciated!


	2. go forwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is loosely based on the prompt for day 20 - full moon

“This isn’t something I ever pictured doing again,” Will says, keeping his gaze trained on the night sky above.

There’s a full moon tonight, which Hannibal had deemed fit to mention when he’d first arrived. They’d sat out on the porch instead of moving inside, and then Will had made a quip about nights like this in his youth, and somehow he’s found himself sprawled on the hood of his truck beside Hannibal.

It’s only a little awkward, surprisingly. Will feels a sense of satisfaction he’s unable to pinpoint, but it seems to linger in the air around them.

“Is this something you often did as a young man?” Hannibal inquires lightly.

“I guess so. It was a better way to spend sleepless nights than tossing and turning in bed.” Will tilts his head backward a little. “I didn’t have company, though.”

“I believe the level of physical comfort leaves something to be desired, but I can understand the appeal.” Hannibal chuckles, shifting one hand behind his head.

Will smiles, inordinately pleased. “You had to know I’d end up being a bad influence on you.”

“Not at all,” Hannibal replies. “I find your level of influence in my life to be delightful beyond measure.”

Will closes his eyes for moment, then focuses on the bright moon above.

It’s hard to detect anything other than honesty in Hannibal’s words. More and more, he feels that Hannibal’s sense of contentment around him is only growing. It doesn’t make any sense to Will, but he can’t deny that he feels an answering attachment in his chest.

It makes him want to both preserve it, and shatter it. Shake up their fragile peace, yet do anything to fortify and strengthen it.

Will breathes deeply. Between the warring emotions, he thinks he knows what he really wants. This could all go badly, could turn that way terribly fast. Honesty is paramount, between them. He can nearly see the flames engulfing them even now, if they were to offer anything less than that to each other. Still, the only thing Will wants to do right now is lovingly disassemble more of the forts he’s so carefully crafted over the course of his life.

“I think…” he begins softly, “this was when I first felt free.” He can tell Hannibal’s turned to look at him, but Will doesn’t look back. “I’d gotten my first car, and it was a real piece of junk. I’m sure you can imagine. But to me, it meant independence. A little piece of the world had been carved out for me, by my own hand.”

The idea of it is so ordinary, almost pathetically generic. What adolescent doesn’t dream of grasping freedom within their own two hands? Even so, Hannibal’s attention is as absolute as though Will were confessing some earth-shattering revelation.

“What did that look like? That part you’d carved for yourself?”

“It was so vivid, at the time.” Will closes his eyes again. He can almost feel the humid air around him, the curve of a different car hood at his back. He’d felt like he could go anywhere, do anything. “But now, I really couldn’t tell you. All that mattered was that it was mine.”

Hannibal hums thoughtfully. “Do you think that version of yourself would be happy with your life now?”

Will blinks his eyes open again. “That’s a loaded question.”

“Perhaps it is,” Hannibal allows. “I am still curious what you think on the matter.”

“Of course you are,” Will sighs. He taps his fingers against his hip, considering. “Honestly, I don’t know. The only life that kid knew was being dragged around by someone else, so any amount of freedom would’ve been preferable, I think.”

“You don’t often speak of your father,” Hannibal notes after a brief pause.

“Neither do you,” Will replies, shifting his feet. This is starting to feel a little too close to one of their sessions, and Will doesn’t want that. Uneasiness rises from the pit of his stomach, settles like lead in his chest.

“We need not speak any further on this topic, Will.” As always, Hannibal seems to know just what he’s thinking. “This glimpse into your past is something I value for my own personal reasons, there’s no cause for alarm.”

“Is that so?” Will crosses his ankles to keep himself from shifting around again. “Sounds a little like we were about to delve into my deep-seated childhood issues, and I know how you’d love to try your hand at interpreting that sordid affair.”

Will can hear the testiness in his own voice. It’s probably not fair of him, but it’s still difficult sometimes to separate Hannibal from Doctor Lecter, and he can only imagine that it’s the same on Hannibal’s end. It’s natural and expected that he fall into patterns he’d use on his patients, but Will can’t stop the flare of irritation in his chest.

“I believe I may have made an unnecessary leap,” Hannibal says eventually. “I hope you know by now that I consider you a friend, and not a patient.”

Will lets out a long breath. “I believe that’s what you want, yes.”

The words hang heavy in the air. Will hadn’t meant for them to sound so grim.

“Is it what you want, Will?”

He can feel Hannibal’s gaze on him. Sometimes he thinks that’s the most dangerous tool in Hannibal’s arsenal, laid right alongside the powerful weapon that is his words.

Will presses his tongue to the back of his teeth. “I think you see yourself as my friend. You’ve shown up at my home a few times now, and you don’t seem to desire anything from me other than the pleasure of my company.”

He can’t quite keep the skepticism out of the last part of that statement. 

“I can leave at any time,” Hannibal assures him.

“You don’t have to.” _I don’t want you to_ , goes unsaid.

With a sigh, he turns his head to the side. Thinks of honesty, again.

“Sharing parts of myself with you doesn’t feel like it does with other people. And I like to think that that’s because you’re my friend, not my doctor.” Will looks down at Hannibal’s shoulder. “I don’t know what we’re doing. We both might want something, but that doesn’t mean it will work for us.”

Hannibal exhales softly. Will continues gazing at his shoulder while Hannibal peels him apart with his eyes in the particular way only he is capable of.

“I agree the method of our meeting is not a standard prelude to friendship, one that would naturally lend itself to knowing you as I do now.” Hannibal pauses. “Nor as I’d like to know you. There is a professional barrier that is difficult to cross, but I believe we have been chipping away at it since the very beginning, in a myriad of ways.”

Will snorts lightly, closing his eyes with a short nod. There’s no point in denying it. Had it been inevitable that they’d end up like this? Drawn inexorably together?

“I find myself considering other ways that we may have met,” Hannibal muses, apparently following the same train of thought. “It seems impossible that we may never have done so. Perhaps Alana would have introduced us eventually, though I know she is very protective of you.”

Will grimaces, turning to stare back up at the sky. “I know she means well, but I’m not—”

“I know, Will. You don’t need to be coddled, but that doesn’t mean those in your life wouldn’t seek to preserve your happiness in any way they can.”

It’s too much. Means too much, to Will. He can feel it like a sharp ache; he wants to bring his hand to his chest to cover what feels like an open wound.

“And you?” Will’s throat feels dry. “You’re trying to preserve my happiness?”

“I don’t know that I could presume to have such an influence upon you, but I would of course do everything in my power to see you so,” Hannibal says warmly.

Will can’t help but look at him then. Half of him wants to slink off into the safety of his home, bolt the doors, and not have to deal with the sincerity of Hannibal’s words. The other half never wants to look away from him, wants to imprint this moment across his eyelids so that he can relive it every time he closes his eyes.

“You do have influence in my life,” he whispers. “More than I ever expected you would.”

“I can only hope it is not a bad influence.” Hannibal’s tone is light. The tide of their conversation can turn, now, if Will wishes it. A gentle tease, a redirection, and they will both be back on safer ground.

“I allow you to have influence over me, and you allow me the same,” he says instead. “It’s give and take. That’s the only way it can be between us, I think.” 

Hannibal’s eyes are so very dark, but the keen focus he directs at Will shines like a beacon in the night. Will still doesn’t know what he’s done to gain the attention Hannibal affords him.

Will rolls onto his side, cushioning his head on his arm. They watch each other another long moment before his mouth twitches in a semblance of a smile. “Whether we’re bad influences on each other or not is left to be determined by our future selves.”

Hannibal chuckles. “I find that very unlikely. I do not take your friendship lightly, Will.” He smiles. “I will treat the opportunity for such with the proper care.”

A frown pulls at his lips. “That almost sounds like a form of coddling, Doctor.”

“Already I misstep and am relegated once again to Doctor,” Hannibal laments. Still, he doesn’t seem truly perturbed. “I do not seek to coddle you. I see you as you are, Will.”

Will’s breath catches in his throat and stays there. “And what do you see?”

“A man I very much respect, admire, and grow increasingly fascinated by daily. I don’t believe I could adequately explain to you just how much.” His serious tone gains a hint of humor. “I must add that you are undoubtedly the only person I would allow to convince me to lie down on top of a car, as well.”

Will barks out a laugh, the sound a little closer to mildly hysterical than he’d like. He can only hope it’s not something Hannibal picks up on. He sits up suddenly, running his hand over his jaw, followed by the back of his neck. He leaves it there for a moment, leaning back into the pressure and closing his eyes.

Hannibal joins him in sitting a minute later, but makes no further attempt at conversation. He simply lays his hands in his lap and gazes up at the sky, content to have said his piece and left Will to deal with the aftermath.

He finds the words eventually, nestled carefully at the base of his throat. Eager to come out, the more he thinks them over.

“It’s the same for me.”

Hannibal dips his head in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything in response. Somehow, it’s exactly what Will needs. He sighs softly, lowering himself back down. He tilts his head sideways to watch Hannibal’s profile.

He thinks of offering to get a blanket from inside, some attempt at making this whole endeavor a little more comfortable. It’s chilly, besides; maybe two blankets, and a couple of drinks, or, wiser yet, he should send Hannibal on his way. He’s spent enough time out here, and has a long drive ahead of him. It would be the smart thing to do.

Will could also invite him inside to warm up a bit, first. It would be wholly unnecessary; the Bentley’s heating system is something akin to a spiritual experience. Still, the dogs would be excited to see him. Will would feel that same sense of baffled intrigue at the sight of Hannibal at ease in his home, one he thinks could perhaps fade away with time. With familiarity.

Hannibal turns to look at him, after some time. The brightness of the moon seems to reflect in his eyes.

“I believe the life you’ve made for yourself is extraordinary, Will.” He speaks so softly, Will’s not sure he isn’t imagining the words. “Trust me when I say you are beyond anything I could have predicted in my life.”

Will can’t bring himself to turn away. His fingers curl at his sides, knuckles pressed into metal, a futile attempt to ground himself. It doesn’t help at all; he’s fairly certain that the wild flutter of his heart is likely to carry him away into the safety of the trees at any moment now.

Hannibal smiles, briefly closing his eyes. “Forgive me for saying too much, once again. It appears to be a bad habit of mine.”

He’s only vaguely aware when Hannibal lies back down beside him. They don’t speak again for a long while, not until Will murmurs a few words about checking on the dogs.

They both stretch after standing back up properly. Will can’t help a huff of laughter at the sight of Hannibal mildly ruffled. The other man merely raises his eyebrows, and Will hides his amusement by turning back toward the house.

This feels like the way to end the evening. There’s no need to invite Hannibal inside, to try to make the trip worth his while, when he clearly has no qualms about stopping by.

“It was good to see you, Hannibal,” he says.

“Thank you for having me, Will.”

He shoots his gaze sharply upward at the moon, then meets Hannibal’s eyes. “Maybe we’ll have to do this again next time.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. “I can think of nothing I’d like more.”

Will raises a disbelieving eyebrow, but he’s smiling too. The smile remains when he raises a hand to bid Hannibal goodbye as the Bentley makes its way down Will’s driveway.

It feels good - all of it, even the frightfully overwhelming parts. It also seems like something he’s not truly meant to have. He wonders if it feels the same, for Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to add some more to this, after all! There will be five chapters and it should be all wrapped up by the end of the month.
> 
> Thank you for giving this fic a chance, and sticking around♥️!


	3. you go backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> falling leaves (and fluff!)

“Fancy meeting you here,” Will calls out as Hannibal approaches. He receives a small smile in return.

“You all look well,” Hannibal replies, carefully petting each dog that runs up to greet him. A few are more interested in running through the crunching leaves, but it still takes a minute for Hannibal to complete the task.

“And you,” Will offers while Hannibal’s head is still tilted downward. He trains his gaze to the trees in the distance, hands curling into fists deep in his pockets.

Hannibal straightens up next to him. They both watch the dogs run off and reunite with their friends. He’ll throw them a stick later, once they work off their initial energy.

“What brings you here today?” Will asks. It’s a habit he’s gotten into, since that first night Hannibal had shown up at his home in an attempt at something like friendship. It’s been a few weeks since then, and a few more visits during those weeks. Will finds himself looking forward to them more and more, which a voice in the back of his head warns him is probably dangerous. It’s hard to pay attention to it when Hannibal’s standing beside him.

“I thought of this, if you must know.” Hannibal’s eyes are warm, arm sweeping in the general direction of Will and the dogs. “It is quite pleasant this afternoon. When I envisioned you standing amongst the falling leaves, surrounded by your furry friends, I found myself compelled to see the vision become reality.”

Will’s heart does something strange in his chest. Hannibal still chooses the words that will draw the most honest reaction from Will, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t true; Will knows they are. Knows that Hannibal had probably captured the sight of Will and the dogs as he’d walked up from his car and will be able to recall it at a moment’s notice.

What he doesn’t know is why Hannibal would want to hold onto a memory like that.

“Well, here we are.” It’s an inadequate response, but Hannibal looks pleased anyway.

He continues to look just so after Will starts throwing the sticks, even when Will squats down and gets into a brief tug of war over one. Hannibal stays quietly observing until Will rounds everyone up with a whistle, leading them back to the house. Hannibal lingers in the grass while they all run inside.

Will walks back down to join him. “Have you eaten?”

“Breakfast, yes. Have you?” He tilts his head toward Will.

“I’d say yeah, but I don’t know if cereal counts for you.” He grins, squinting at the light filtering through the trees. “I can make us lunch if you’d like.”

“That would be lovely, Will.” Hannibal looks off into the same direction. Will is very aware of the way his hands hang at his sides. Will is tempted to tuck his own back in his pockets again.

“Okay. We can stay out here a little longer, if you have some more aesthetic urges to fulfill.” He glances over, raising his eyebrows.

Hannibal huffs a laugh. “Would you indulge me if I said I’d brought my sketchbook along?”

Will freezes. His fingers twitch, one hand rubbing at the side of his leg. “I… don’t know what to say to that.”

The corner of Hannibal’s mouth curls in a tiny smile. “You needn’t say anything at all. Or you may very well tell me there will be no such indulgence on your part. I am merely a guest here, Will.”

Will rolls his eyes. “You say that, but you wouldn’t have brought it if you didn’t think you could convince me.”

“Is that what you’d like me to do? Convince you?” Hannibal’s eyes are practically twinkling, words playful. Will kicks a little too forcefully at the leaves beneath his feet.

“I didn’t say that,” he grumbles.

“You did not,” Hannibal says agreeably. They remain quiet after that, standing side by side in the chilly air. Silence is rarely uncomfortable between the two of them, he’d been happy to discover.

“I’ll get us some tea.” Will turns away after a few minutes. “I’ll be right back.”

He refills the dogs’ water bowls while he waits for the water to boil. Hannibal stays outside, right where Will had left him. He can see him through the window, coat gently blowing in the wind every so often. Will fights down a sigh.

He prepares two mugs of tea, keeping the chipped one for himself once he gets back outside. “Thank you for the sacrifice,” Hannibal says with a nod toward Will’s chipped mug.

Will scoffs. “It’s only polite.” He holds the mug closer to his face, breathing in deeply. “It would’ve been polite on your part not to mention the state of my kitchenware.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Of course. I do hope you can forgive me.” Hannibal takes a sip of the tea, seemingly unaffected by its heat. Will’s not brave enough to attempt it just yet.

“Maybe,” he replies. “We’ll see.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Hannibal promises.

Will jabs him lightly with an elbow. Leans into it a little more than he’d meant to, before pulling back. Hannibal hums, eyes crinkling at the corners. Will braves his tea.

He’d had plans to take the dogs for a longer walk for their afternoon excursion, but they’d gotten plenty of exercise running and playing together. There’s a stack of essays he needs to go through, and a second load of laundry ready to be put into the washer once this cycle is done. None of it seems that important. He can picture Hannibal settled on one corner of the couch, reading through one of Will’s books, or maybe sneaking into the kitchen to survey the lunch possibilities, while Will grades papers, or folds clothes in his bedroom. He thinks maybe Hannibal wouldn’t mind that at all.

When his tea is nearly done, he asks, “So what exactly did you want to draw?”

Hannibal turns to him. “I’m quite content, Will.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Will aims for exasperated, but he’s not sure if he pulls it off.

Hannibal chuckles softly. “No, it isn’t.” He reaches out to take Will’s mug from him after he takes the last sip. He places both of their mugs on the railing of the porch, then returns to stand in front of Will. He pauses to briefly meet his eyes, then walks off to his car. Will waits silently as opens the passenger side door, then returns with his sketchbook and pencils in hand.

“You’re really, uh. Huh.” Will tries not to fidget. There’s still a chance Hannibal just wants to sketch the scenery. Nature isn’t quite like this in Hannibal’s neighborhood. Of course, he could find a park nearby and not drive the long distance to Wolf Trap, but here he is.

“It’s alright, Will. Let’s sit on the porch?”

“Okay.” Will rubs his hands together. “Yeah, okay.”

They sit on the two shabby chairs on Will’s porch. Will usually uses the second one to place his mug, or his feet, or the file folder he’s poring over. It’s much nicer to have another person sitting in it.

Hannibal makes no move to start his sketch. Instead, they talk about the dogs, about what Hannibal’s planning to make for dinner tonight. Will recounts some of his best recipes, because he _can_ cook, despite the evidence not lining up in his favor. He makes sure not to talk himself up too much, aware that he has already committed to making lunch for them, if Hannibal ends up sticking around for it.

They’re discussing the paper Hannibal is working on for a psychiatric journal when Will notices the man has finally begun his sketch. He appears completely at ease on Will’s rickety porch chair, pencil arcing over the page while he carries on the thread of their conversation. Will can barely concentrate on his words when faced with the sight of Hannibal drawing in front of him.

“Would you like to see?” Hannibal asks politely, pausing. 

Will shakes his head quickly. The very prospect feels much too overwhelming right now. He’s still not entirely sure whether Hannibal’s toying with him and merely recreating more French architecture. He’s also not sure whether he wants him to be, when the answer should be obvious.

“Maybe when it’s done?”

“Of course,” Hannibal agrees, bringing his gaze back to the book in his lap.

Will shifts his legs, sighing. He gazes out along the grass, traces the shape of the leaves in the trees. He should figure out what he actually wants to make for lunch. Should have brought his phone back out with him, when he’d been inside, in case Jack calls.

He closes his eyes instead.

“Have you been sleeping well?” Hannibal asks.

“Not too bad, lately,” Will murmurs. He can only hope the trend continues, but it seems like he’s living on borrowed time. It’s been so long since he’s felt - normal. Stable. He’s not sure he’d be able to recognize the fit of it in his life any longer.

“I’m glad to hear it.” The pencil scratches along the page. “You are looking well, as I said.”

Will can’t help a smile. “I thought you were complimenting the dogs.”

“Have you known me to be incapable of multiple tasks at once?”

“I’ve not known you to ever be capable of only one task at a time.” Will’s still smiling. He laces his fingers over his stomach.

Hannibal chuckles. “I am flattered.”

“You’re terrible. You know it’s true, you just wanted to hear me say it.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the compliment, coming from you.” He can hear the smile in Hannibal’s words. “You are a difficult man to impress.”

Will lets out a long breath, fingers tightening briefly before he relaxes them. He keeps his eyes closed. “Is that what you want? To impress me?”

“I want many things, Will.” The sound of the pencil is drowned out by the blood pounding in Will’s ears. “Right now, I am extremely content. I hope you are as well.”

Will focuses on the the breeze on his skin, the rustle of leaves, the quiet skitter of claws along the floor inside.

He blinks his eyes open, but doesn’t turn to Hannibal. He looks at their mismatched mugs on the railing, one perfectly unblemished, and one damaged, but functional. Still capable of holding warmth inside it, despite the fact that many would simply cast it aside and purchase a new one.

Will stretches his legs out, and smiles.

“I am.”

Hannibal meets his eyes when he turns his head. Will can’t stop smiling.

“Let me know when you’re finished. I’ll start lunch.”

“I look forward to it,” Hannibal replies. He’s wearing his own smile, understated but warm. It’s quickly becoming one of Will’s favorite sights.

“Better get back to work, then,” he says, nodding toward the sketchbook. It’s difficult not to lean forward, to try to catch a glimpse. He wants it as much as he fears it.

Hannibal bows his head in acquiescence. “As you wish, Will.”

Will snorts lightly and closes his eyes again. “Yes, this is all my own personal indulgence.”

He hears Hannibal return to his sketch. “I like to think it’s an indulgence for both of us.”

Will holds his breath for a long moment. Thinks of Hannibal’s words, before; an opportunity. For both of them.

“Yes,” he says finally. “I think it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was Hannibal actually drawing? The world may never know!
> 
> The last two chapters are finished and just need to be touched up a bit. Thank you for reading!


	4. and somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hot cider (and more fluff)

“I believe it’s my turn,” Hannibal offers in explanation, before Will can even ask. He hands over one of the travel mugs in his grasp to Will, keeping the other for himself. Will opens it curiously, taking a cautious sniff.

He glances up. “Cider?”

Hannibal smiles. “Homemade, of course.”

“Of course.” Will fights his own smile. “My last offering was from a tea bag, just so you know.”

Hannibal had thoroughly distracted him, and Will moves back from the doorway, allowing the other man inside. As usual, he takes the time to greet the dogs, which never quite fails to make Will feel - something. A staggering amount of that something. He watches out of the corner of his eye as he returns to the kitchen.

“I’ll be done in just a minute,” he calls, scrubbing the pan in the sink. He finishes the few dishes left a little quicker than he normally would. Will tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to let the cider get cold.

They take up their usual corners on the couch, Will not quite accustomed to the fact that there’s someone who has a designated anything in his home, each armed with their own travel mug.

“Please try it,” Hannibal says, nodding toward Will. The words are light, but his gaze is focused. Apparently Will’s opinion on his homemade cider is of great interest to him.

Will takes another sniff and meets Hannibal’s eyes. “What if I don’t like it?”

“Do you not enjoy hot cider? If so, please do not trouble yourself.” Hannibal appears perfectly amiable, but Will can see the shadow of disappointment in his eyes. Barely there, just a flicker of emotion. Will covets each and every moment like this he’s able to catch.

Will struggles to keep his expression even. “It’s fine, I can at least try it. You brought it all the way here, after all.”

“As I said, Will, it’s no trouble. I can take it with me.” Hannibal places his own untouched mug on the small side table and reaches for Will’s.

Will pulls back a little. “Hey, get your own.”

Hannibal pauses, watching him for a moment. “Ah. You’re simply being difficult.” Despite the words themselves, there’s nothing but warmth in them. Will imagines the heat of the cider wouldn’t be able to touch it.

“You make it too easy,” Will says, lips twitching. It _has_ gotten easier to read Hannibal; it’s something that he’s grown to cherish. He wonders if Hannibal harbors a similar feeling, when it comes to Will. It’s difficult to imagine, but there must be some reason he continues making these trips out to Wolf Trap.

He supposes he may as well put the man out of his misery. He raises his eyebrows just before taking the first sip, then pauses. Hannibal is watching him closely. Will doesn’t have anything to offer as a compliment, aside from taking another, longer drag from the travel mug. He sits back with a sigh afterward, closing his eyes.

“The verdict’s in. Just as you suspected, it’s fantastic.” He tilts his head to look over at Hannibal, who, predictably, appears rather smug. He finally drinks some of his own cider, now that Will has tried it.

“So what inspired this venture?” Will asks. Not that Hannibal needs an excuse to try anything in the kitchen, as he has learned.

“It is something I have not attempted before,” Hannibal says. He swirls his travel mug appraisingly, eyeing the contents. “I found myself wishing to share the experience with you.” He turns to meet Will’s eyes. “I am glad to know that you have enjoyed it.”

Will takes another gulp in answer. “It’s the best cider I’ve ever tasted,” he says honestly. Hannibal looks smug again, and Will can’t help a laugh. “Usually you at least pretend to be modest. You must be really pleased with yourself.”

“It seems that I am,” Hannibal agrees. His good mood buoys Will’s own.

“Well, I don’t mind being your guinea pig.” Will pauses. “For things like this, anyway.”

They’ve still never categorized _this_. Will continues to show up for his weekly appointment at Hannibal’s office, and they discuss the cases Jack currently has him working on, or the killers he’s lecturing about. Hannibal matches him in those moments of darkness, and then matches him just as well in this.

“Is there something on your mind, Will?”

Will glances over, but Hannibal hasn’t fixed his piercing gaze on him yet. He seems content to let Will voice his thoughts at his own pace. Will can’t decide if he wants to voice them, at all.

“Yes. Maybe.” He drinks his cider. “I don’t really know my own thoughts about it yet.”

Hannibal turns to him then. “Would you like to talk about it?”

No. Yes.

Will shakes head, shrugs noncommittally. “I don’t know. Is that okay?”

“Of course. I am—“

“My guest?” Will supplies. Hannibal smiles in reply. Will laughs lightly. “Yeah. That’s— yeah.” He looks away, fiddling with the mug in his hands. “You’ve been my guest a lot, lately.”

“Indeed.” Hannibal pauses. “If I have overstayed my welcome—”

“You haven’t,” Will interrupts. He sighs heavily. “You know you haven’t. You don’t have to extend the proper pleasantries and abscond from the property.”

“There’s something to be said for the proper pleasantries,” Hannibal murmurs. “But I will refrain.”

Will finishes the rest of the cider that Hannibal had handcrafted and delivered, still warm, to Will’s doorstep. Hannibal extends his hand, and this time, Will passes over the travel mug. Both of them are placed on the table beside Hannibal before he turns back toward Will.

“Is our growing friendship troubling to you, Will?”

Will barks out a laugh. “Going right for the kill, huh?” He runs a hand through his hair, scratches his fingernails along the back of his neck. Hannibal watches him fidget in contemplative silence. It’s not dissimilar to the way he’s watched Will wander around his office, only this time, he’s not trying to coax out Will’s musings on the inner workings of Jack’s killers, but to unearth the complexities of Will’s feelings toward their - _growing friendship_.

“It’s not troubling,” he admits, eyes flitting to meet Hannibal’s. “And that’s what I find troubling.” He tries to smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

“Friendship is difficult for you,” Hannibal states.

“And what about you?” Will counters. “You’re friendly with plenty of people, surrounded by acquaintances and admirers alike, and yet for some reason, you find yourself here with me. What exactly does your grasp on friendship look like?”

He cuts himself off there, staring down at his hands in his lap. He doesn’t want to insult Hannibal, nor make it seem as though Hannibal views him as an exception, someone he might seek out for more than he receives from the other people in his life.

He’s not like Will. Will’s social circle is so small and dismal, it’d be downright depressing for anyone viewing it from the outside. But Will generally prefers it that way. Hannibal might be an exception of the greatest kind for him, but that doesn’t mean the reverse is true.

“I guess maybe I should have said no, I don’t want to talk about it,” he says finally, when the silence stretches long and uncomfortable. He picks at a thread on the corner of the middle cushion, from where one of the dogs’ nails had snagged on the fabric. Will tries to keep them off of the couch, but sometimes, he quite likes the company. In fact, right now, he wouldn’t mind if one of them jumped up. Preferably one of the bigger ones, who could easily block the radiating power of Hannibal’s eyes on him.

“My apologies. I’ve been thinking over my answer to you.”

Will doesn’t look up. “Your answer? To my insinuation that you’re as awkward and socially challenged as I am, despite all evidence to the contrary?”

Hannibal exhales softly. “Will.”

“Thanks for the cider, by the way. For making it, and bringing it all the way out here.”

“Will.” Hannibal leans forward, reaches over the cushion between them, and then hesitates, hand inches from Will’s. Will’s gaze snaps to Hannibal’s.

Hannibal lets his hand come down on the cushion, resting so very close. Will remembers that first night, when he’d imagined Hannibal’s hand meeting his on this very cushion. It seems a lot more intimidating in the light of day than it had in the shadowy warmth of the fireplace.

“Your assumptions are astute, as usual,” Hannibal says, managing to make his current pose look intentional, and graceful, besides. Will would roll his eyes, but part of him is still reeling. “I do have many friendly associations, and yet what I confessed to you previously remains true. Your company is what I desire most.”

“It’s— I’m not fishing for compliments,” Will manages. He feels flustered, simultaneously fighting the urge to spread out his fingertips to reach Hannibal’s and to jump up from the couch and gets as far away from the entire situation as possible.

“I didn’t think you were, Will.” Hannibal pauses. He can probably read the struggle on Will’s face, which only makes the need to flee grow stronger. “I simply wish to be honest with you. Things have unfolded most unexpectedly from our first meeting, I am sure you’d agree?” He waits until Will looks up again, which takes longer than it should. “This is new ground for me, as well. But I am happy to be traversing it, with you.”

Will lets out a sharp exhale, closing his eyes. He’s going to do something stupid. He can feel it.

“I might be reading this wrong.”

“You don’t often do that.” Hannibal sounds calm as can be. Will plays over that moment of hesitation, his outstretched hand. Reaching toward Will.

“Friendship isn’t the only thing I find difficult.” The words feel like they’ve been dragged out of his throat, unearthed from some dark recess, hidden deep inside himself. Some place that’s not seen the light of day for longer than Will can remember.

Hannibal mulls that over for a moment, giving Will the impression he’s about to broach the topic with some small amount of tact. Unfortunately, he’s proven wrong.

“I believe any true intimacy shared with another person is what you struggle with, no matter the nature of that relationship. I imagine it’s been this way all your life.” Will feels his ears begin to burn. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to make any assumptions as to your past romantic or physical entanglements—”

“Hannibal,” he says, covering his face with a hand. He can’t believe this is happening. He should have just skipped over this whole conversation and reached out a few inches, instead.

“I believe I’ve overstepped,” Hannibal murmurs. “I did not intend to make you uncomfortable.” Will listens to him shift slightly before adding, “Please let me know if I should abscond from your property at once.”

Will huffs out a laugh, warm air gusting back at his face. He sighs, lowering his hand enough to meet Hannibal’s eyes. “Physical intimacy is bad enough. Talking about it is a whole other thing, altogether.” The words are slightly muffled from the press of his fingers against his mouth.

Hannibal chuckles, looking down. Whether it’s to spare himself or Will is uncertain. “I am truly sorry, Will. The last thing I would like is for anything between us to cause you undue distress.”

It feels honest. Will thinks he would drop this thread of conversation entirely, if Will were to desire it. He still feels half trapped in the version of him of a few minutes ago, unsure of where to begin voicing his thoughts. Somehow, they’ve ended up here. With nothing said, yet all of the things unspoken on the topic as clear as glass between them.

“It’s not undue distress,” Will mumbles, dropping his hand. “Just normal distress, I think. I can manage it.”

Hannibal raises his head. His hand is still there, on the middle cushion. Will wants to look down, emblazon the reality of the vision currently dancing in his head into his memory, but he keeps his eyes locked on Hannibal’s when he reaches out. It’s slow, deliberate, and Hannibal does nothing to stop him.

His palm rests neatly on top of Hannibal’s hand. It’s so simple. Warm, and light, his fingertips gliding over Hannibal’s knuckles. Will’s stomach jumps and trips over itself at the touch, but luckily Hannibal’s penetrating gaze doesn’t actually translate to x-ray vision.

Hannibal doesn’t seem to be able to look away from Will’s face, either. “I find myself quite the opposite of distressed, at the moment,” he says mildly. Will can see something else lurking in his eyes, unable to be subdued. Something like yearning, yet undeniably fierce. Will feels it like a match sparking deep within his own chest.

“This feels easy.” Will curls his fingers a little more, lets himself hold Hannibal’s hand properly. “Should it?”

“I don’t know.” Hannibal’s smile is small, but genuine. “Uncharted waters, as we have discussed.” He runs a thumb along Will’s skin, and he feels his eyelashes flutter. A ridiculous reaction, but Hannibal appears similarly moved as their hands lock together more firmly between them.

“I’ve thought about this before,” Will admits.

“Have you?” Hannibal’s eyes are only open half-mast now. Will’s not sure when that had happened.

“Yeah. I was almost certain that— I thought you’d meet me in the middle.” A nervous smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Will watches with bated breath as Hannibal shifts their joined hands. He has the absurd thought that Hannibal is about to kiss the back of his hand, but he only brings himself further onto the middle cushion. He smiles, the corners of his eyes softening.

“I am happy to meet you, wherever you may be.”

Will chuckles, slightly off-kilter yet elated, and shuffles his way closer. “Even if that happens to be an old farmhouse in the woods overrun with too many dogs?”

His expression is the warmest Will’s ever seen it. “I’d prefer it over most anywhere else.”

Will has to close his eyes, then. He leans back against the couch, and feels Hannibal mirror the pose beside him. His chest feels so full. Brimming with so much, he knows he should be afraid, but he’s not.

He smiles, and wonders if it’s too much to hope that it’ll always be this easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that last line may sound a little ominous, but rest assured, I intended for this to be soft and pleasantly domestic throughout.
> 
> The next chapter will be the last. Thank you for reading, as always!


	5. we will meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first frost (and other firsts)

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be out any longer than you had to, today,” Will says in greeting. The temperature had dipped rather drastically overnight, and Will stands on his lawn in a hat and gloves as the dogs run over to welcome their visitor. Hannibal, for his part, is wearing gloves, a scarf tied smartly around his neck.

“I find it rather refreshing.” He offers Will a smile once he pulls up beside him. “It looks like everyone here is enjoying it, as well.”

“Most people are hiding under their blankets, I imagine.” Will smiles back. “Already wishing for spring.”

“We have never been most people, have we?”

“I suppose not.”

They watch the dogs for awhile, before he turns to Hannibal. “I was actually going to take them for a walk. Do you want to join us?”

“Of course,” he replies. “Lead the way.”

Will chuckles, beginning to trudge through the leaves. “I don’t think this is what you expected to be doing when you made the trek out here.”

“I find I never know what to expect when I arrive, yet I am never disappointed.”

Will chances a quick glance over to find Hannibal at ease, hands in his pockets as he matches Will’s stride. The words warm him as much as the man’s presence.

“Well, let’s get going, then.”

He whistles to get the dogs’ attention, and they all begin the trek through the surrounding fields. Hannibal appears just as content wandering the frosted foliage as Will is. He’d suspect it to be feigned from nearly anyone else, but he’s gotten quite good at reading Hannibal lately. More so than he ever thought he’d be able to.

He’s also held the man’s hand, had that same hand pressed to the small of his back, and once they’d shifted the chairs on the porch so that their arms had pressed together. Each occasion had suffused Will with a warmth he feels even now, bitter wind licking at their cheeks.

“I believe a prize has been found,” Hannibal notes, catching Will’s attention with a light touch to his elbow. It takes Will a moment to realize what he means, and then he smiles.

“Would you like the honors, or should I?”

Hannibal leaves him to it, in the end. Will tosses the stick each time it’s brought back to him, and their walk slows down considerably with the new game afoot. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind. Will watches him reach down to pat one excitedly wriggling hindquarters, which only makes her tail wag harder.

Will can’t help a smile. “You really do like them, don’t you?”

Hannibal looks up, hair falling into his eyes. “There is little to dislike. They’re very well-behaved, and well-loved.” Will is glad his face is already pink from the cold. “I enjoy spending time with them, as well as you.” His tone turns conspiratorial. “Perhaps I enjoy my time with you a bit more, but we mustn’t tell them that.”

Will grins and looks away. “They can hear you now, you know.”

“Perhaps so, but I believe they may be suitably distracted.”

So is Will, now. He manages to keep up with the game of fetch, and the thread of idle conversation between them as they walk. Hannibal touches his elbow again to guide him over a larger branch hidden beneath some leaves. Will had seen it up ahead, but makes no move to stop him.

“What will you do when you are free from lecturing for the holiday?”

Wills huffs. “That’s still a little ways off yet, despite the weather.” Hannibal nods, but waits for an answer anyway. “I don’t know. I’m not really big on holiday celebrations.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if you’re surprised by that.”

Hannibal raises his own eyebrow. “Perhaps not. Still, I imagine you will make good use of the time.”

“I’ll do my best,” he replies. “Just have to hope no killers come calling, either.”

“Even killers must take a holiday once in awhile, I am sure.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Yes, they’re reliable like that.” He tosses the stick after two false starts, seven furry bodies darting after it. “What about you? Any big plans?”

“Not particularly.” Hannibal tucks his hands back in his pockets. “Perhaps a small dinner party. I usually hold one each year.”

“I have a feeling there’s nothing small about it,” Will says dryly. Hannibal dips his head in acknowledgment. “I suppose psychiatry doesn’t really take a holiday any more than the FBI.”

“Not as such,” Hannibal agrees. “I will still be available to my patients for emergencies, should they need me.”

“And I’ll be available for Jack,” Will sighs. Hannibal inclines his head once again. “I don’t know the last time I ever had a proper vacation.”

Hannibal unexpectedly latches on to that offhanded comment. Will wonders if he’d been waiting for the opportunity. “An unfortunate circumstance that could easily be rectified, I believe.” 

Will shoots him a quizzical glance. “Not like I’ve got any grandiose plans I’ve been waiting to enact at the first opportunity.”

“It need not be anything grandiose.” Hannibal still hasn’t turned to look at him in a way that feels calculated. “Sometimes it is something as simple as a weekend of freedom.”

“Somehow that’s not what I imagine, when I picture you on vacation.”

“No,” Hannibal agrees. “I prefer at least two weeks to fully immerse myself in the experience.”

Will laughs. “You never do anything by halves, do you?”

“I scarcely see the point.” Hannibal shoots a little smile in his direction. “And what type of excursion would you prefer? A short refuge from the toils of daily life, or something a bit more extended?”

“I don’t know,” Will says slowly. “I haven’t really thought about it.” Something flutters strangely in the pit of his stomach. “There’s been no reason to.”

He sees Hannibal nod in his periphery. “I’ve not had a proper holiday myself, in some years.”

Will stops short after following that train of thought to its natural conclusion. Hannibal pauses when he realizes Will has stopped, as do the dogs, eventually.

“Will?” Hannibal enquires politely, as though he hadn’t just been leading up to inviting Will to go on holiday with him. If not outright extending the offer, he’d certainly intended to leave the insinuation linger in the air between them. The idea of travel, together, a hotel and shared meals and whatever else going on holiday with someone entails.

Hours of shared company, more moments for shared intimacy. Will swallows, staring unseeingly ahead.

He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s holding the stick until Hannibal pries it loose from his hands. He tosses it, then turns back to Will.

“Shall we head back?”

Will nods, still not trusting himself to speak.

They leave the stick behind as they return the way they’d come. Will’s thoughts whirl in his head, loud, discordant. He’s tempted to rub at his forehead, though he knows it wouldn’t help any. Whatever reaction Hannibal had been hoping to elicit with his careful ponderings, Will is positive this hadn’t been it.

The noise in his head somehow manages to die away when Hannibal touches his elbow again.

“Will.” He turns to meet the gaze directed his way. Serious brown eyes look him over before he speaks. “That was a forward assumption for me to make. There was no attached expectation, rest assured. I was merely thinking aloud.”

Will watches the puff of his breath in the air. “But you’ve thought about it before.”

Hannibal hesitates before answering. “Yes, I have. That doesn’t change the fact that I would never seek to presume.”

Will looks down, wishing he still had the stick so he’d have something to occupy his hands. He’s no better than his dogs.

“I can’t imagine what it’d be like,” he says honestly.

“You don’t have to, Will.” The side of his mouth tips up slightly. “I’d be happy to share dinner with you, instead. Would you accept if I invited you to my table?”

Will fidgets with his collar. “The fabled dinner party?”

“If you like.” Hannibal’s smile grows just slightly. “I’d allow for a more intimate setting for two.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

Will’s gotten so used to having Hannibal at his home, among his things, surrounded by his dogs. It’s not that much for Hannibal to ask of him. He’s never gotten the impression that Hannibal feels anything other than comfortable here, but it’s only natural that he’d wish to share some of his own life with Will.

“I think we should stop our sessions,” he blurts.

Will starts walking again to avoid looking at Hannibal’s expression. He follows Will after a moment, once again meeting his stride. He waits for Will to continue, rather than offering his own input. It’s as thoughtful as it is irritating.

“I’m not saying I want to bring work into _this_ ,” he says, gesturing between them without looking over. “But it doesn’t feel right to - to be your patient. I know I’m not, technically.” Will huffs and stops walking again. “But you know what I mean. You know how it looks.”

Hannibal turns to meet him, serious once again. One of the dogs bumps against his leg, and he reaches down to pat the curious snout absentmindedly. The smile that pulls at Will’s mouth feels painful.

“It’s one thing to play at being friends when we’re still having weekly sessions at your office. It’s another thing entirely when we’re talking about intimate dinners o-or, going away together.” He trips over the words, unable to believe he’s just spoken them into the world. Hannibal appears unfazed, for his part. Most likely because he’s the one who had brought up both possibilities to begin with.

“You’re quite right, Will.” Hannibal sighs. “I suppose I’ve known it, but have put off this very conversation.” Will raises an eyebrow, and he elaborates, “I didn’t imagine you’d be open to the idea of a referral.”

Will tries not to wince. “You’d, ah, probably be right on that one.” He rubs a hand over his jaw, squinting.

Hannibal exhales softly, shaking his head. “Of course, we may simply continue our discussions in another setting. Or we can go over the prospect of a referral in more detail. Whichever would be best for you.”

Will groans. “When have I ever known what’s best for me?”

“I believe you’re getting better at it, every day.” Hannibal’s gaze carries a fondness so potent Will has to look away.

“You’re just saying that because I’ve been putting up with you all this time.”

“As I am putting up with you,” Hannibal returns.

“I have a feeling one of us is getting stiffed in this deal.” Will shakes his head with a laugh.

“If so, I am quite certain it’s not myself.”

Will fiddles with his collar again. He wants to place his hands on Hannibal, instead.

“I could do dinner.” His gaze darts to Hannibal’s. “The intimate one, for two.”

Hannibal smiles. “I look forward to it.” The smile turns slightly devious. “You still have ample time to come up with a reason to cancel.”

“Don’t make me sound so awful,” Will complains, stifling another groan. Hannibal chuckles, eyes twinkling. “Maybe in the future, we could—” Will clears his throat. “We could both use a proper holiday, so why not go together?”

“Will.” Hannibal steps forward, reaching out to squeeze both of Will’s hands in his before letting go. The warmth and pressure radiates through his fingertips despite the brevity of the touch. “We have plenty of time for all of that, too.”

“I know,” Will says quickly. “But I’m open to that. We can talk about it.”

“Then we shall,” Hannibal agrees. He looks so very pleased. Will likes to see him pleased, likes to know he’s been the cause of it.

Will presses his hand to the line of Hannibal’s broad shoulder, without consciously making the decision to place it there. Hannibal’s eyes silently search his own. Will doesn’t know what he might see.

Will swallows. Hannibal steps forward, his hand tentatively finding Will’s waist. He tries not to shiver.

Two deep breaths later, Will finds his voice again.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” Will says, shifting infinitesimally closer.

“You rarely do.”

God, the way Hannibal looks at him.

Will lets his eyelids drift closed, Hannibal’s burning gaze the last thing he sees before he presses their mouths together. The fingers around his waist tighten, gentle but insistent. His own hand slides from Hannibal’s shoulder to the back of his neck.

It’s impossible to focus on anything but Hannibal. When Will tilts his head, Hannibal shifts just so, and he can’t help but be delighted that they fit together like this, move with each other so well. It makes him wish that they had done this sooner, even as part of him is surprised they’re doing this at all.

Hannibal sighs softly against his mouth once they part. His eyes are still closed, a wistfulness to his unguarded expression that Will’s not expecting to see. It tugs at something tender in his chest. 

Will doesn’t examine the urge to kiss him again too closely; he simply leans forward and does it. He’s met with the same careful attention as the first time, but quite a bit more eagerness. Will finds himself matching it, heart kicking in his chest where they’re pressed together. He wonders if Hannibal can feel it, and whether he wants him to. He thinks he might.

They stay close when it’s over, rather than pulling away fully. It feels good - better than good. Hannibal’s attention on him always does. Will’s fingers twitch; he wishes it were his bare hand pressed to Hannibal’s skin, but he supposes there will be more chances for that later. The thought makes him grin.

“How long have you been wanting to do that?”

“How long have you?” Hannibal replies, a deflection that Will can’t bring himself to mind too much. Hannibal’s gaze feels very warm, like a physical caress.

Will lets his hand slide back to Hannibal’s shoulder, which he squeezes once. He thinks of pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth, but he’s not sure if he would stop at just one. He settles for pressing his forehead to Hannibal’s temple. Hannibal’s palm moves up Will’s side, then downward, a slow trail that makes his eyelashes flutter.

“It’s cold. Do you want to come inside when we get back?”

“I’d like that very much, Will.”

Will grins again, airy and light. They make their way back through the fields, the dogs running ahead. Will wordlessly guides him over the fallen branch, this time, and Hannibal makes no move to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andddd that's that! If I thought this was too soft when I started out, it only ended up even more so by the end...! But it's been fun to explore a happier, softer, fluffier season one era AU, featuring less seizures and/or ears shoved down throats.
> 
> It's always a little intimidating to write for a new fandom. Thank you so much for sticking with this fic, and giving it a chance♥️!


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